Two Hearts Each, One Soul Together
by HowDidWeSurvive
Summary: "It's not what was said, it's who said it" Sherlock murmured, barely an audible whisper, unintended for the doctor's ears. But nevertheless Sherlock had John's full attention and John's eyes widened. 'Did I hear him right' John thought. 'Is he affected by me? By what was said because I said it'. Just then Sherlock registered the surprise on John's face, heard his confession...


Attempting to repress the noise of shoes pressing on wood, Sherlock and John made their way up the seventeen steps into 221B minutes before midnight. They just finished solving another case with a mother's body battered by a so-called 'burglar'. John was a little on edge with Sherlock, irritation practically seeping from his body as he twitched on the heels of his feet, as moments before Sherlock had reduced a young girl to tears in front of a group of officers and her aunt.

"I don't care if you felt the need to 'deduce', Sherlock. She's just a child and you had no right to announce that she was being abused" John moaned, rubbing the palms of his hands into the balls of his eyes, trying and failing to keep his calm exterior. "You know better than this, sometimes I understand why people call you a sociopath - when you act this way".

The doctor made his way into the kitchen to prepare a late dinner as Sherlock insisted they had no time earlier to eat, rushing out of the flat without a moments notice. To John's annoyance, as per usual when he opened the fridge there was at least one disturbing experiment. He sighed as he poured water into the kettle and switched it on, knowing better than to raise complaints again right now.

"Do you really think that?" Sherlock's voice pierced through John's inward battle between Chinese and Indian as the kettle began to boil. John turned around, slightly taken aback to be facing a faintly sad looking Sherlock with the beginning of a pout on his lips.

The blogger hastily walked towards Sherlock until he was sitting on the chair opposite him. As John was closer he gazed into Sherlock's currently light blue eyes and noticed that they didn't just show sadness, but hurt. 'What's affecting him? It wouldn't be what I said? He's been called worse than a sociopath, Sherlock's own words. Being called a 'freak' nearly everyday by Donovan or insulted by Anderson. One mention of sociopath and he suddenly feels hurt? There must be something more to it, he doesn't just let his mask down for anything. Even in the comfort of home he would still shield himself if he found himself slightly hurt, what could affect him so much that it's too much effort to keep up his easy-looking mask?' John mused, proud that he learned at least some little observational skills from his time spent with Sherlock.

"You know I didn't mean it, Sherlock" John tried with a small smile placed on his lips, but the atmosphere felt too tense. "How could I John? I'm a sociopath, remember? I don't understand feelings, and whether they're true or not" Sherlock spat, his emotionless exterior up once more. But John knew his friend too well and could still feel the attempt at shielding hurt in his voice that the detective tried so hard to cover from John.

"Sherlock, stop it, listen. You have a heart, I know you do. I know you're not a sociopath. I know you don't get affected this easily by being called one. So, tell me what's wrong?" John asked, unsure of how the detective may reply, trying to hide his eagerness to know. He felt slightly guilty if Sherlock didn't want to mention it and he was prying, but he felt the only way to get an answer from Sherlock was to get straight to the point before he could manipulate the subject of conversation.

"It's not what was said, it's who said it" Sherlock murmured, barely an audible whisper, unintended for the doctor's ears. But nevertheless Sherlock had John's full attention and John's eyes widened. 'Did I hear him right?' John thought. 'Is he affected by _**me**_? By what was said because _**I**_ said it?'. Just then Sherlock registered the surprise on John's face, realising he'd heard his confession and began to lift himself out of his chair before John had a realisation of his own about his flatmate.

However, John saw what Sherlock was trying to do and leaned forward out of his chair and cupped Sherlock's face carefully in his hands. At first Sherlock continued to try and get up but John held him firmly in place as his attempt to leave ceased.

Sherlock blinked, looking slightly shocked by John's actions. He then focused his eyes on John's, trying to read what he was thinking. His blogger whispered reassuring sweet nothings while not breaking eye contact for a second. "You're an idiot. A real idiot, Sherlock. I didn't mean it, you have a heart. I know you have at least one anyway, because you stole mine". Sherlock's stomach was tingling at the soft words spoken and the contact of the gentle yet steady doctor's hands. He felt even more nervous yet excited than when he saw Redbeard for the first time as a puppy, wondering how it would feel to care for someone so much and have it returned in full with just as much care.

The moment was palpable between them like they could only hear each other's breath. Not the nightlife of the world around them, nor the bustle of loud barely-twenty-one party goers, or even Mrs. Hudson's television that she'd fallen asleep to. Without a single worry of regret or uncertainty at what he just admitted, John closed his eyes and lent so Sherlock was closer. He barely pulled Sherlock's face when lips were pressing against his. Forceful and needy at first, like they had been waiting too long and needed to feel the reassurance of the returned sign of love, but then turned gentle, passionate and soft.

In that moment, both of their worries disappeared and both were certain of their feelings and each other's hearts. In that moment, it was like time stood still as the world around them had faded. In that moment, in that kiss, that _**first**_ kiss that would turn into many and much more between two people with two hearts each, but one soul together, it was perfect.


End file.
